


Give and Take

by SlimeQueen



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Slut Shaming, all in that order lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when Hanbin looks at Bobby he feels like he can't breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> okay this happened in one night and idk what it even is but i love making hanbin suffer :)))  
> Please don't steal or post my work anywhere else without my permission! Thank you!

When Bobby had suggested they watch a movie, Hanbin wasn’t sure if he meant watch a movie or _watch a movie_.

Regardless, when Bobby turns the lights off and pats the edge of his knees, Hanbin sits down with some suspicion. It seems all innocent, the movie something in English than Hanbin couldn’t really care less about but Bobby takes in with acute attention.

And that’s fine, because Hanbin is used to entertaining himself with his thoughts when the others are doing other things—or it would be fine, if not for Bobby touching him so damn much.

Bobby’s arm is slung as casual as can be around his waist but his hand is tilted down, the pads of his fingers rubbing slow distracted patterns into Hanbin’s thigh, and Hanbin is finding it exponentially more difficult to focus on what the foreign actors on the screen are saying, instead finding himself fine-tuned to every single one of Bobby’s inhales and exhales.

He slides as inconspicuously as possible higher up on Bobby’s lap, straddling one of his thighs. Bobby’s hand trails down to his back immediately, an unconscious gesture that already has Hanbin flustered.

Hanbin lets out a shuddery breath and shifts his hips, legs tight around Bobby’s thigh. Bobby’s hand rubs mindless circles against the base of his spine and Hanbin’s breathing is becoming more unsteady by the second. Just being in such a close vicinity of Bobby, his rough calloused hands warm on Hanbin’s skin get him worked up easily until he’s panting softly, heart thumping unevenly in his chest in apprehension and arousal.

He tucks his lower lip between his teeth and balls his hands up into fists, tries to stop his mind from being hyperaware of every time Bobby moves under him, tries to will down the way want curls low in his belly. His hips roll, slow and meaningless, but it makes him have to stifle a gasp anyways, biting his lip so hard that it hurts.

Bobby’s thumb traces the line of his spine absently, up to the middle of his back and down again, and Hanbin shivers, squeezes his eyes shut and inhales through his nose. He’s not completely hard, but he knows the second Bobby sees him, there’ll be that telltale glint in his eyes, the one that makes Hanbin’s body heat up in seconds.

But he also knows that Bobby won’t make it easy.

Bobby is a fucking _tease_ and plays unfairly, and suddenly Hanbin has the most awful thought of Bobby just _ignoring_ him, telling him to keep quiet and not move, to sit through the movie and suffer in silence. Horribly enough, that thought makes everything even worse, makes his libido shoot through the fucking roof.

Then Bobby curls his hands around Hanbin’s hips, pulling him in instinctively. Hanbin isn’t sure if Bobby hasn’t noticed how worked up he already is or if he’s just decided to disregard him on purpose just to see how fidgety he can get the younger. Knowing Bobby, the latter is more plausible than Hanbin would admit.

The choice is Hanbin’s though—it always is. Does he want to set things in motion, to dig his own metaphorical grave, or does he want to simmer in his own skin until he can’t take it anymore.

It’s becoming an increasingly easier choice to make.

 “Hyung,” he whispers, “I’m hard.” The words are tinged with shame, his face flushed and the tips of his ears hot. His fingers knot into the soft worn cotton of Bobby’s hoodie and he tugs until Bobby looks at him, pupils blown in the dim light.

“Are you?” Bobby asks, tone soft and casual, the same way he would ask how the song Hanbin is working on is going or if he thinks it’s going to rain later in the day. Still, the way his fingers dig in just a little too deep into Hanbin’s hip give him away. “That sounds more like a problem for you than it does for me, doesn’t it Hanbin?”

Hanbin grinds his teeth down against his bottom lip and swallows his frustration. "Please," he mumbles, "Please, please hyung, I need--" His chest is tight, words tangled up in his throat.

Bobby curls a hand around the back of his neck. "Tell me what you need, baby."

Hanbin looks up with heavy lidded eyes and says, "Need you, please, I need you,” and tangles his hand into Bobby’s hoodie tighter, holding on like he’s scared to let go. His body rolls down against Bobby’s thigh, the movements easy and fluid thanks to years of dance practice, shamelessly pressing one of his palms against his cock straining through the material of his sweatpants.

Bobby brushes a wide palm down Hanbin’s side, cradles his hip carefully and pulls him down between his legs. He’s so high strung that he startles when Bobby tugs him closer and presses them together, Bobby’s chest against Hanbin’s back. “Safeword?” he asks simply.

“Kumamon.” Hanbin’s reply is instantaneous, and Bobby grins, all sharp edges and gleaming eyes.

“Down,” Bobby says without any contemplation, “Get on your knees and open up those pretty lips.” Hanbin feels his eyes on him the whole way down and even though the wood floor hurts his knees, will probably make them bruised the next day, he keeps silent.

Bobby slides to the end of the seat and curls his hand around Hanbin’s jaw, yanks his head back so his mouth drops open in a gasp. His other hand drops to his crotch, palming his dick through his shorts as Hanbin watches, lips parted dutifully.

The second Bobby pulls his shorts down his thighs, Hanbin feels like the air in the room is thicker, tightening his throat and making it hard for him to exhale. His nerves buzz and tingle, stomach churning. Bobby’s cock is hard as he fists it, jerks himself off leisurely and watches the way Hanbin twitches, his own dick straining against his sweatpants.

“How bad do you wanna suck Hyung off, Hanbin?” Bobby teases when Hanbin whines and leans forward on instinct. “Fucking slut, can’t go an hour without my dick down your throat.”

Hanbin’s pupils are dilated as he looks up at Bobby through his eyelashes, licks his lips nervously and inclines his head. “Please,” he whimpers again, unsure of what to say. Bobby’s lips curl into a cold smile.

“Get on with it then,” He drags a hand through Hanbin’s hair, stops and fists it tightly, then pulls Hanbin forward.

 _God_ , he thinks suddenly, he wants to be used, for Bobby to drag him up and down his cock, for Bobby to come down his throat and hold a hand over his mouth and nose until he has no choice but to swallow.

Hanbin’s always been a little fucked up.

Bobby’s cock presses to his lips then, smears hot precome over his the line of his mouth and his tongue flicks out immediately to lick it up, the bitter taste making saliva flood into his mouth. Then Bobby’s dick pushes past his lips and Hanbin lets him in eagerly, clamping his lips around him.

Bobby’s hand is still holding him by the hair, pulling down the length of his cock slowly, rocking his hips up shallowly into Hanbin’s mouth. Bobby is heavy and throbbing on his tongue, tipping Hanbin over into the territory of desperate as he sucks pitifully and tries to take more of him in.

Hanbin nearly gags, manages to stop himself when he’s right on the edge, keeps his throat relaxed and works his way down Bobby’s thick cock. His lips are swollen, pink and shiny with saliva as he reaches down and rubs a hand over himself through his sweats.

“Stop touching yourself.” Bobby sounds amused, his voice cold as he nudges Hanbin’s hand away with his foot. Hanbin groans around the cock in his mouth and slides his hand down his thigh, fists it into his sweatpants. “You can come when I tell you to, don’t do anything before I say so.”

Hanbin’s senses are on overdrive, arousal and embarrassment crashing through his system as Bobby leans over him, tightens his grip on Hanbin’s hair and yanks him down.

Tears spring to his eyes as Bobby holds him still, rocks his hips slowly and fucks his mouth, but with it comes relief and satisfaction—Bobby is getting off, and that alone is enough to make Hanbin content.

Then Bobby is down his throat, mercilessly fucking his face, all the while keeping his face completely composed. It’s driving Hanbin up the wall, how Bobby looks like he isn’t affected when Hanbin is watery-eyed and gasping for breath.

Hanbin’s never been so good at deep-throating, but Bobby is staring at him so intensely, his eyes bright with something that makes Hanbin whither and submit in comparison, and Hanbin tries his best to let his throat open up, to swallow around all the saliva in his mouth as Bobby pushes his head down and up again.

Hanbin doesn’t get any warning save for the low groan in Bobby’s throat before Bobby’s cock pulses on his tongue, and then he’s coming, holding Hanbin down and making him take it all down his throat instead of pulling away. Tears stream down Hanbin’s cheeks at the way his throat stings, raw and fucked out as Bobby finally lets him go and he slumps down, panting heavily, one hand pressed to his chest to calm his racing heart.

Bobby rubs his wet cock along the ridge of Hanbin’s cheekbone, a filthy obscene gesture that leaves a long smear of come and spit on his face before he pulls back. Bobby allows him a second to collect himself before he speaks again.

“Come here baby, sit in Hyung’s lap,” Bobby coaxes him up and pets his thighs. Hanbin sits carefully, feeling his breath hitch when Bobby slinks an arm around his waist and rubs his hipbone, the crease where his thigh meets his hip, and then lower still to the sweatpants riding low on his hips. Hanbin grinds down unconsciously seeking friction, moaning soft and desperate when Bobby slips a hand under the waistband and wraps his fingers loosely around his cock.

Bobby’s legs part and suddenly Hanbin is pressed between them instead of on them, but the new angle lets Bobby pull Hanbin’s face to the side and kiss him, tongue curling into Hanbin’s mouth past his swollen lips. Bobby pulls Hanbin’s pants down his thighs so they bunch up around his knees and properly fists his cock.

Bobby’s hand is too dry and it’s painful as he jerks Hanbin off with slow and lazy strokes, his warm mouth pressed to the junction of his shoulder and neck. There’s no lube to make the slide any easier.

“Hurts,” Hanbin whimpers, “Hyung it’s…” His short nails dig into Bobby’s forearm as he whines and squirms in discomfort.

Bobby nuzzles into his neck apologetically, mumbles, “Make it easier for Hyung, then,” and presses his hand to Hanbin’s mouth. It’s almost embarrassing how eagerly he takes Bobby’s fingers into his mouth, sucks on them and drags his tongue down over Bobby’s calloused palm until Bobby growls quietly into his ear, “Enough,” and drops his hand back down. This time when Bobby’s fingers wrap tight around him, Hanbin whines and tries to fuck up into his fist, relief evident in the way he moans and bucks his hips closer.

“Hanbinnie,” Bobby croons, “Such a fucking slut, aren’t you? Couldn’t even get through a fucking movie without practically humping my leg, desperate bitch.” His hand tightens around the base of Hanbin’s cock without warning, and Hanbin gasps, keens, his voice high and halfway broken.  “Bet you’ve been waiting to suck my cock all week. Tell me how much you want it, baby.”

Hanbin doesn’t hesitate for a second, tempestuous waves of arousal sending heat spiraling through his body. “So bad, I want it so bad, Hyung, want your cock, wanna be fucked,” he halfway slurs, eyes dark and unfocused, hips jerking without rhythm into Bobby’s hand, “Wanna be your slut, just for you.” Bobby’s always been good at driving him to the edge of incoherent and dragging him right back.

Bobby’s voice is hoarse and low as he groans into Hanbin’s neck, rutting against the curve of his ass through his boxers. “Fucking cockslut,” he says and then, “God, I should fuck you on the couch. You’d like it too, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d like it if I called everyone else in here, told them to watch while I fuck you open. Want the maknaes to watch me fuck you?”

Hanbin shakes his head, but something inside him is screaming a frantic _yes, I do_ and something clenches painfully in his chest, claws around his ribcage that make it hard for him to exhale until Bobby growls into his neck, “ _Breathe_ , in and out baby boy,” and then he’s gulping air in, overwhelmed and gasping for it. Bobby pulls him in tighter, his hand slowing from the already torturously slow pace he’s been jerking Hanbin off to. “Unless you want me to help you.”

A feeling of not-quite-fear shoots through Hanbin’s stomach up to his chest, and he nods almost immediately, throwing his head back and baring his neck. The look in Bobby’s eyes is vicious and Hanbin feels agitation itch inside him, the urge to please gripping him tight.

Hanbin’s entire frame trembles finely as Bobby slides his hot hand up the center of his sternum and presses his palm to his throat, feeling his pulse flutter and thrum frantically under his skin. “In,” Bobby says, and Hanbin obeys, sucking in a slow agonizing breath.

When his lungs feel too full, on the brim of exploding like a too-full plastic bag, Bobby’s fingers tighten around his throat. “Hold it for me. Can you do that baby?” His voice is increasingly softer, coaxing Hanbin into following along easily. Hanbin nods feverishly, his heart pounding in his chest. Still, he trusts and trusts and trusts, rushing headlong to a place where Bobby has full control and he’s okay with it.

Bobby rubs his adams apple between his thumb and forefinger, the callouses rough against Hanbin’s soft skin. His face feels hot and flushed as Bobby presses his other hand flat to the underside of his throbbing cock, resumes the lazy handjob with more purpose this time. Hanbin tightens his hold on Bobby’s forearm, nails indenting sharp crescents against the veins standing out on it. It’s too dry again, borderline painful, but this time Hanbin likes it like that, insides winding up with every burning drag of Bobby’s hand over his cock.

His heart beats so loud he can feel it throbbing in his ears, can hear the rush of blood as he holds and holds until he almost wonders if Bobby had forgot he’d asked Hanbin to hold his breath. His vision is dark—it’s almost too overwhelming, he’s going to lose it, he’s going to—

Bobby says, “ _Out_.”

Hanbin releases everything in a long rush, body slumping, aching and everything pleasantly fuzzy. Relief tastes sweet on his tongue as Bobby pushes Hanbin’s neck back, cranes his neck and kisses him deeply, steals the breathe right out of his lungs again.

Right when he thinks his heartbeat is back to normal tempo, Bobby says again, “In, Hanbin,” and has him rushing back to breathless, sucking in air through his mouth. This time Bobby sinks the hand on his cock down, dry fingertips pushing briefly to his hole where it clenches at his touch, and Bobby hisses, “Wanna fuck you so bad. If we had time I’d be inside you right now, making you beg for it.”

Hanbin bites the inside of his cheek so hard it hurts, his lungs aching for air, aching for Bobby to say the word that brings relief. Bobby keeps stroking his windpipe absently, tightening his fingers on it before loosening them again, and Hanbin’s just to the right of anxiety because everything is in Bobby’s hands all of a sudden, all the control, all the decisions.

Again, Bobby waits till the moment Hanbin’s thoughts are filled with nothing but _air air air_ to whisper, “Out.” Hanbin’s legs feel like they’ve been turned to jelly, his insides all stirred up like Bobby stuck something inside him and mixed up his organs.

His chest heaves as he sucks down oxygen again into his starved lungs, desperate for it. Bobby’s hand doesn’t leave his throat for a second, index finger trailing the straining vein in the side of his neck, gentle but so completely dangerous.

“Again,” he demands, and Hanbin whimpers softly, but nods. This time Bobby’s voice is even quieter, rolling like thunder as he commands, “In.” Hanbin’s head rolls back onto Bobby’s solid shoulder and he inhales, chest filling up. It burns, his throat protesting, raw after being fucked, but Hanbin is too preoccupied by scrambling to follow Bobby’s orders to care.

Bobby jerks him off slow and steady, smearing precome down the length of his dick and easing his way, rubbing his thumb into the head, scraping his blunt nails gently into the veins. Hanbin’s eyes are watery, threatening to flutter shut, but Bobby is murmuring into his ear, quiet praises of “So good Hanbin, you're so good. Hold it in just a little more, yeah?" 

Hanbin keeps his breath stopped up as best he can, shuddering and squirming when the urge to cry out becomes too much, and Bobby presses the pads of his fingers into Hanbin's throat, feels Hanbin's pulse quicken under his touch. Everything feels too hazy from the lack of oxygen, Hanbin’s fingers trembling when he tries to hold onto Bobby.

His lungs burn excruciatingly, aching with the need for relief, and all of Hanbin’s insides feel knotted and drawn tight at the bottom of his belly. Everything is just short of overwhelming, but then Bobby licks his palm and gives him a couple more strokes and it tips him over the edge, vision whiting out for a second. He’s trying to hold everything together, but the whole world is shaking and threatening to collapse as he tries and tries.

Bobby causes the end of the world with a single word.

“ _Now_ ,” he says in that deep hoarse voice, and Hanbin is falling, down into an infinity that tastes like sweet air flooding back into his lungs the same second he comes, torso doubling over and his cock twitching, spurting against his stomach as Bobby keeps tugging at his dick, milking him for everything he’s worth even when Hanbin is spent, dizzy and disoriented. His vision is marred with spots of black and everything aches, just a little too much on the side of pain, his chest heaving and throat clicking dryly when he swallows.

Everything hurts but everything feels too good, the sensation urging him to somewhere that feels more cloudy and floaty than real, somewhere any other thoughts get drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears.

Hanbin isn’t sure if he blacks out for a second or if he’s just too wrapped up in his thoughts, but then suddenly Bobby is stroking his hair with deft gentle hands and kissing the corner of his mouth, murmuring quiet words into Hanbin’s skin. At first he doesn’t distinguish them, lets Bobby’s voice carry him back in a golden shower of “I’ve got you baby, I’m right here.” One of Bobby’s hands tenderly brushes over his neck, then down to his chest to press against his still-frenzied heartbeat.

Hanbin blinks, his senses coming back to him all at once in a way that makes his head spin. “Oh,” he murmurs once he’s regained some semblance of order. There’s come glistening on his stomach where his shirt’s ridden up, dripping a slow cooling path down his lower abdomen. He’s still just a little blissed out, the air taking on a hazy quality.

Bobby chuckles and presses a fond kiss to his cheek. “Oh,” he mimics, and tightens the arm around Hanbin’s waist, holding him closer. “You okay?”

Hanbin hums, rolls his face to the side into Bobby’s neck and kisses any skin he can reach. “Yeah,” he sighs out, half dreamy smile curling on his full lips.

One of his hands reaches up on its own accord, fingertips cool on the hot abused skin. The marks Bobby had left squeezing his throat are light, not the bruises the darker part of his mind wants, but they’re still enough. “Hyung?” he says, voice raspy and soft. Bobby hums in response, tugs his hair lightly and pushes back a disheveled strand. “I think you missed your movie.”

The subtitles are rolling on the television, going by in English that would take Hanbin a long time to read anyways, even harder when his brain has turned to mush like it has now. Bobby huffs out a laugh. “It’s okay, I’ll watch it with Chanwoo or something tomorrow.”

Bobby’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, blinding and bright, and cajoles Hanbin off his lap, stands up and stretches, his shirt riding up. Hanbin follows the ripple of muscle in the thin strip of abdomen he can see and sucks his swollen lip into his mouth.

“I’ll watch it with you tomorrow,” he says.

Bobby laughs. “No offense Hanbinnie, but every time we decide to _watch a movie,_ this ends up happening.”

Hanbin opens his mouth to protest but what comes out is an embarrassing squeaky noise. He snaps his jaw shut. “Water?” he asks instead, curling into the couch.

Bobby smiles fondly and walks over to the kitchen. Hanbin watches his back retreat and lets his eyes flutter shut. They’re weighing down, closing before he can help it.

The last thing he sees before he passes out completely is Bobby coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water and a slightly exasperated smile tugging at his lips when he sees the younger is half-unconscious.

Overall, in Hanbin’s opinion, he’d call it a successful movie night. 

**Author's Note:**

> In my head they were watching Finding Nemo for some reason lmao 
> 
> [my tumblr](http://eatjinsass.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/whinytaeyong) come hmu


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